


SGA Drabbles

by Todesengel



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 16:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todesengel/pseuds/Todesengel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of unrelated drabbles/ficlets</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I was wrong," Rodney says, and it's quite possibly the hardest thing he's ever had to say. "I was wrong and you were right and I'm sorry."

Radek has the good grace not to gloat, and just nods once in acknowledgement. He hands Rodney a cup of coffee, and Rodney takes that as the invitation for which it is and sits down on Radek's bed.

"But how was I supposed to know?" he says after Radek refills his cup for the second time. "It's _physics_. Things aren't supposed to change in the middle! It's. It's. They're _constants_ , Radek, they're fixed." He looks into the middle distance, at the equations typed out in neat little rows that scroll by on the computer screen. "Nothing is constant, is it?"

"I am," Radek says.

Rodney wishes he could believe that.


	2. Chapter 2

Rodney did not generally think of things like gratitude. Gratitude was for the insecure, for idiots who weren't sure of themselves. He'd never understood gratitude, although at this particular moment he was getting a whole new education in the matter, particularly the gratitude he felt over having a door that locked. No need to let all of Atlantis know about his mistakes.

His back twinged, and he forgot all about gratitude, and instead thought about how it was just his luck that he had to be with the one man in this entire city who didn't carry a knife.

"Hurry up, Radek."

"I am going as fast as I can." Radek fiddled with a strap near the top of the swing and Rodney yelped as one arm was pulled up a bit higher than the other. "It was your calculations, you know."

"My figures were perfect. It's the materials that were flawed."

"It was not the materials. You did not account for all possible variables." Radek gave another little tug and Rodney was treated to the particularly unpleasant sensation of dropping head-first towards the floor.

The little Czech bastard was doing this on purpose.

"Possible variable-- I accounted for all possible variables, Zelenka," he said when he was sure he wasn't suffering a fatal heart attack. "It's your fault that I'm in this predicament. If you hadn't thrust so hard --"

"I was not the one waving my hands around." More fiddling and then, suddenly, Rodney's feet were on the ground and the black nylon straps of the swing were spread out around him and Zelenka was smiling his little, wicked smile and pushing his glasses up from where they'd slipped down his nose. "There. Fixed."

Rodney grunted and began tugging at the strap that had somehow become wound around his wrist.

Ah well. Back to the drawing board.


	3. Chapter 3

Rodney bit down on the donut and the jelly squirted everywhere, coating his face and fingers with sticky, vaguely grape tasting sugar syrup.

"Shit," he muttered and looked around for a napkin, holding his messy hand out well out of the way of his computer.

The sudden pressure of a hand grabbing his wrist made him twitch and then Ronon was sucking on his fingers and all Rodney could think was "What the fuck?"

He stared at Ronon who quite calmly cleaned all of the grape jelly from Rodney's hand before moving on to his face.

It was not an entirely unpleasant experience.

"What are you doing?"

"Shouldn't waste food." Ronon used his thumb to get the last of the jelly off of Rodney's face, and sucked on it. He licked his lips and grinned. "Mmm. Tasty."


	4. Chapter 4

Beckett froze, errand forgotten, everything forgotten as he stared at the sight before him. Rodney, pants down around his ankles, shirt rucked up but not thrown off. Radek, mostly naked, glasses askew, beautiful, lithe legs wrapped around Rodney's waist. The two of them, moving like the water that lapped up against the city's walkways, beautiful and primal and.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly he became erect.

And then he became aware of the noises, of the crinkle of the coverings for the beds in his lab, of the murmured, rolling noises issuing from Zelenka's mouth, of Rodney's sighs and groans and tiny squeaks.

Beckett knew that the polite thing to do would be to leave quietly and find some excuse to keep people away from the lab until they finished. And maybe if he'd still been on Earth he would have been polite. But all that being polite had gotten him was a death-grip on virginity and he was bloody well sick of being polite.

So, instead, he moved behind a workstation, slid down until he was mostly hidden, until he could just see them over the top of the counter. There was a bottle of lubricant nearby -- he must have forgotten to put it away after giving Major Sheppard his physical earlier in the day -- and he carefully slid it off the counter, squirted some of it out into the palm of his hand.

He slid his zipper down, one tooth at a time, barely breathing, hoping he wouldn't make some noise that'd disturb the two men in front of him, make them stop.

It was half-way down when Zelenka shouted out something in Czech, arched up against the bed he lay on, knocking his glasses completely off in the process. Rodney stopped moving and Beckett froze, not sure if he was more frustrated or afraid, but then Rodney began to thrust again, and Beckett slid his zipper the rest of the way down, wrapped his hand around his cock. He stroked himself in time to Rodney's movements, as quietly as if he was jerking off back home and his mum was asleep in the next room.

His own hand was warm and wet, and as he stroked he imagined himself between them, imagined Rodney's weight pressing down on him, each thrust driving him deeper and deeper into Radek. He could hear Radek's mumbled words, voice made deep and rough and ragged like raw silk, as he whispered encouragement or curses or sweet endearments or maybe just random phrases. If he twisted, around, he'd be able to kiss Rodney and taste the cloying sweetness of his powerbars, the bitter aftertaste of black coffee.

He came at the same time as Rodney, and almost as quietly, with a tiny, grunting whimper, his heart thundering in his ears.

He waited until the two men left -- Rodney complaining about his back, Radek smirking just a little -- before he crawled out from behind the workstation and cleaned off his hands. He used the strongest disinfectant he could find to clean down the bed and the workstation; he was sure they were all clean but better safe than sorry.

Beckett put the cap back on the bottle of lube and then hesitated and slid it into the pocket of his coat instead of putting it back into the supply cabinet.

Well, you never knew, now then did you?


	5. Chapter 5

"Now, tell me again what the emergency is?" Beckett said.

"I just want to know if that stuff -- " Rodney pointed to the small vial of bright pink gel he'd handed Beckett "-- is toxic if ingested in large quantities."

"What is it?" Beckett swirled the liquid around and held it up to the light. "Something you found Off World?"

"No, it's, brummbla," Rodney mumbled.

"It's what now?"

"It's." Rodney looked around and then leaned in close to Beckett and hissed out, "It's bubblegum flavored lube, okay?"

"Oh is that all." Beckett put down the lube and patted Rodney on the shoulder. "You should be fine, it's completely harmless." He paused. "Out of curiosity, though, just how much of it did you eat?"

"It wasn't me. It was Ronon." Rodney prodded the vial. "And he ate the entire tube. Said it was 'tasty'." He prodded the vial again. "The bastard."


	6. Chapter 6

Sheppard grabbed Ronon and forced him down into the copilot's seat with an annoyed, "Sit. Down."

For a minute and a half there was silence and he relaxed, just a little, thinking perhaps this time Ronon had got the message. He should have known better, for as soon as he stopped glaring Ronon was back on his feet, pacing the width of the Jumper.

"I'm bored," he said.

"You could have gone with Rodney and Teyla to check out those 'fascinating' energy readings." John scanned the distant ridge again, hoping that in the ninety seconds since his last scan, Teyla or Rodney had miraculously appeared and they could all get the hell off of this boring little rock.

Ronon grunted at him and moved into the rear compartment, his footsteps quickly replaced with rustling noises, the sound of crinkling cellophane. He moved back up into the cockpit, leaned up against a bulkhead.

"There's no food."

For a moment, John considered telling Ronon where Rodney kept his stash of powerbars, but the thought of having to listen to McKay bitch all the way back to Atlantis quite handily outweighed the momentary reprieve he would gain from sharing such information with an antsy Ronon. So, instead, he turned in his chair until he was facing Ronon and said, "I can think of something more interesting to do than eat."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

John stood up and kissed him.

He got beamed in the eye with one of Ronon's dreads, and he made a mental note to set aside a couple of hours when they got back to Atlantis to teach Ronon about the wonders of dental hygiene, but other than that it wasn't bad as far as first kisses went. Ronon was oddly pliant in his arms -- mostly from the surprise, John was sure -- and he smelled nice, of leather and oil.

It was an unusual experience, having to tilt his head up, and it began to grow uncomfortable fairly quickly, his neck complaining bitterly at having to hold his head at an awkward angle. So, when Ronon did nothing to force him away, John pressed the attack, drove Ronon back until he felt Ronon hit the low benches in the rear compartment. One more push -- a nudge, really -- and then Ronon was sitting down and John stepped forward, put his knees on either side of Ronon's legs.

There. That was better.

John broke the kiss and stared down at Ronon. "Still thinking about food?"

Ronon grinned up at him, and he unzipped Sheppard's vest, pushed it open, and they were at just the right height for him to tease Sheppard's nipples through his shirt.

"Still want to eat," he said, soft and low and laughing as John suddenly grabbed his shoulder.

"Just don't bite me," Sheppard said, mostly focused on the feeling of cloth gliding across his suddenly sensitive flesh and, damn, maybe this was the reason McKay always looked so...perky. "I bruise."


End file.
